


Mark of the Living

by itsmoonpeaches



Series: Family Figures [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar)-centric, Family, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hakoda (Avatar)-centric, Mentioned Gyatso, Minor Aang/Katara, Parental Hakoda (Avatar), Post-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pre-Avatar: Legend of Korra, Rites of Passage, Southern Water Tribe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmoonpeaches/pseuds/itsmoonpeaches
Summary: “Have you ever experienced something so horrible that you can never forget it?” Aang asked, glancing somewhere else other than him. It was said as if with trepidation, a whisper that Hakoda only caught because he was listening.Hakoda smiled ruefully at him. “I’ve lived my whole life in a war, Avatar. I know exactly what that’s like.”Aang appeared ashamed all of a sudden, and red colored his cheeks. He raised his hands in front of him, almost curling into himself. “Oh! I didn’t mean it that way! I just—”A hand clapped on his back. Hakoda grinned. “I know. No need to worry. I know what you mean.”-Or, Hakoda and Aang form a bond through the years, and rites of passage are only a part of it.
Relationships: Aang & Bato (Avatar), Aang & Hakoda (Avatar), Aang & Katara (Avatar), Bato & Hakoda (Avatar), Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar)
Series: Family Figures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017939
Comments: 49
Kudos: 157





	Mark of the Living

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot gave me so much drama. SO MUCH. I finished it, right? AND THEN SOMETHING CORRUPTED THE ENTIRE FILE. I couldn't recover the file no matter what I tried, and I didn't want to give up on this after working on it for so long...so what did I do? I rewrote the whole thing. So this is a second draft of sorts, but I guess in some ways that's better? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this Hakoda and Aang centric story!

The end of the war was not as anticlimactic as Hakoda would have imagined. In fact, he thought that if it ever did end during his lifetime, he would be an old man still living on a block of ice. He envisioned he would hear of it from a messenger that had somehow found his way to the Southern Water Tribe, slogging through the floes by chance alone. It was supposed to be a quiet affair, utterly unworthy of the pomp and circumstance that he was sure to come.

Instead, the end of the war was spent in awed silence. He was on the Fire Nation airship that he, Sokka, Zuko, and Suki had stolen from the Boiling Rock. He had been making his way to the Earth Kingdom after there was news of the Fire Nation mobilizing their soldiers for some grandiose attack strategy. It turned out that none of his help was needed.

He spent many of those hours staring at the sky as it faded from blood orange to a midnight blue, the streak of Sozin’s Comet leaving a feathered trail until it vanished from the atmosphere. Behind him, there was a group of friends, of children. Haru, the Duke, and Teo, were not his, but he felt protective of them. He was sorry for them. Volunteering to fight in a war was one thing but being a child in the middle of it was something he never came to terms with.

The truth was, he did not know what it was like to have a childhood without battle. In his childhood, he had pretended that he lived in a world filled with wonder and the soft flurries of snow. That he had not lost his father when he was a teenager, that he did not need to learn how to survive. He had sometimes thought that one day everything would turn out to be some horrid nightmare, and he would wake up to a carefree life with Kya and Bato, and they would penguin sled every day.

A messenger hawk was the first thing that alerted any of them that the Hundred Year War was well and truly over. It flapped its wings, tapping its claws on the windowpane of the captain’s bridge, and Hakoda let it in.

 _Dad, wherever you are, come to the Fire Nation capital,_ said the note that was attached to the hawk’s leg. To most people, it would have been illegible. Sokka never had the best handwriting. _The war is over! Can you believe it? You got a coronation to attend!_

So, it was later that they had landed their airship at the docks of the capital. They were not met with the attacking soldiers he had associated the Fire Nation with. They were embraced by a pile of found family and friends, and he was ushered to a guest room in the palace.

The Fire Nation Royal Palace. Of all places Hakoda thought he would end up; it was not here. He had spent much of his time attending meetings and having meals with his son and daughter. He had not paid attention to the complete layout of the place and had not cared to learn. A remnant, maybe, of his lingering wariness for the very country he was in.

It was not a surprise that the night before Prince Zuko’s coronation, he was wandering around lost. He had not been able to sleep well the past few nights, but this night in particular had not even allowed him a few minutes of shuteye. Without anything else to do but wallow in his misery, Hakoda decided to take a walk.

The evening air was humid, not the dry frigid kind of his home. The stars dotted the sky, silvery-white upon an expanse so vast that he could not see the edge of it. He roamed into a courtyard that seemed to be toward the back of the palace, and it was not as ostentatious. The sky well was rather wide, but that was the same for most of the interconnected hallways.

Towards the center was a tree so bent that it could rival the arched back of an elderly man with a cane. It looked like it could have been a large bush, with how much foliage grew from its branches. White, rose-like flowers blossomed from the green of its leaves. A perfume so sweet that Hakoda felt like he was floating, filled the air.

A shallow pond was near the tree’s base, surrounded by carefully placed stones. There was a figure moving through forms next to it, a tendril of water drifting from hand to hand, and then over their head.

“I thought I was the only one awake at this hour,” said Hakoda, interrupting. The water splashed back into the pond as soon as he finished his sentence. 

“Chief Hakoda!” stammered out Aang. “I didn’t realize you were here!”

Aang was wearing Fire Nation red, black, and gold. Somehow, seeing him dressed in something other than the soft autumn tones of the Air Nomads was jarring. Especially against the bright blue of his tattoos, there was nothing more out of place.

Hakoda smiled at him, shrugging. “Please, Avatar, call me Hakoda,” he replied.

“If you call me Aang,” the boy smirked, raising his eyebrows. He moved forward, sitting at the foot of the tree, and left a space next to him. “What are you doing awake?”

It was easy to forget that Aang was just a child, and Hakoda saw it as he joined him at his side, crossing his legs toward himself. Just from what he had seen of his waterbending, Hakoda could tell he was a master. He did not need to be a waterbender himself to know this. This was a feat that was rarely, if ever, achieved by someone so young in any discipline.

However, there were the small things that served as reminders. From the way he had a genuine and optimistic disposition, to the way he joked with his friends. He remembered that this was a person who was not just the Avatar, but someone else who was young and pulled into a war he should not have had to fight.

“I couldn’t sleep,” said Hakoda with a frown. “I guess…I guess I can’t believe that we’re all here.”

Aang turned away, glancing at the flowers that bloomed around them. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Most of us are here.”

As he watched Aang produce a small whirlwind of air in his palm, it did not take long for Hakoda to figure out what that meant.

“Have you ever experienced something so horrible that you can never forget it?” Aang asked, glancing somewhere else other than him. It was said as if with trepidation, a whisper that Hakoda only caught because he was listening.

Hakoda smiled ruefully at him. “I’ve lived my whole life in a war, Avatar. I know exactly what that’s like.”

Aang appeared ashamed all of a sudden, and red colored his cheeks. He raised his hands in front of him, almost curling into himself. “Oh! I didn’t mean it that way! I just—”

A hand clapped on his back. Hakoda grinned. “I know. No need to worry. I know what you mean.” He reached up to touch the petal of one of the flowers that hung above them, inhaling the calming fragrance. He must have been enchanted by it because he did not realize that Aang had turned back to him.

“It’s a gardenia. It’s my favorite flower,” supplied Aang. “We used to cut them and have just enough to put into bowls of water that we would have in rooms all over the temple. That way, the scent would be shared with everyone.”

There was something in the way Aang spoke that told Hakoda that there was something more. Something that he was sure Aang had hidden under smiles and laughter, under the expressed desire for fun and childhood.

Hakoda might not have known what it was like to live in a world without war, but there was at least one person who did, and he was sitting right before him.

He dropped his hand to his lap. He studied the boy for a minute, seeing his profile shadowed with nothing but starlight and the wavering fire from nearby lamps. “How old are you?” he asked quietly.

“It’s the end of summer, so thirteen, I guess,” said Aang. Then, he sighed. “One-hundred and thirteen.”

 _Young and old at the same time,_ thought Hakoda. It was a unique burden to bear. An awful one.

“Your birthday is the first day of fall, huh?”

Aang nodded. “Yeah, always around the equinox,” he agreed. “It’s not a big deal. Birthdays weren’t really that important to my people anyway. We used to celebrate all the birthdays of the month at the beginning of the month so that we could have a party together.

“We would do everything with everyone,” continued Aang. “We had this tradition for when the Avatar was revealed when they turned sixteen. We were supposed to have this huge feast for just us, just the temples. It wasn’t supposed to be anything grand, but Gyatso said it was important. It was the last time the Air Nomad Avatar got to belong to their people before the rest of the world knew.”

Hakoda waited for him to say more. He had caught the name that Aang had mentioned. He had a feeling there was more.

Aang swallowed, gray eyes downcast. “Only my home temple found out my identity. I was told I was the Avatar too early. I never got to have a feast with everyone.” 

Hakoda lowered his head so that his gaze was level with Aang’s. “Why are _you_ awake?” he pressed.

He thought he would have to give up on a response with how long it took Aang to answer, but a part of him told him to wait. He knew that look because he had seen it on the soldiers on his ship, seen it in his reflection in the water as the hull broke through the surface of the ocean, and they made their way further and further away from their children.

But there was another thing there too. This was a feeling he knew because he was a parent. There were certain tells that told when a child was upset, and the expression of someone who looked lost was one of them. He had a faraway stare, and all Hakoda could think about was the way Katara had cried to him when she told him that she was hurt that he left.

“Gyatso was the closest thing to a father I had, but now he’s gone,” Aang said like it was a secret. “The war is over, and I should be happy. But all I can think about is him and if he would be proud of me.”

There were rites of passage that every Water Tribesman went through. Even before he had lost his father, Hakoda had the privilege of going on his disastrous ice dodging trip, earning the Mark of the Wise. He had memories of his first hunting trip and how he had struggled to keep from making sounds with every crunch of his boots. He had learned how to put on his own warrior paint, and as the war approached their shores, he learned how to face his first kill.

There were things that every child should experience, and it was that thought that drove him forward.

“Let’s have a feast,” suggested Hakoda without thinking.

“It’s the middle of the night,” replied Aang. He sounded a little dumbfounded.

“And we’re in a palace,” smirked Hakoda. “What’s your point?”

It was easy to push through with his ridiculous plan when Aang had grinned at him. He might not have been familiar with every nook and cranny that made up the royal residence, but he was familiar with directions. He stopped once to ask a stuttering guard which way it was to the kitchens and reveled in the fact that Sokka would be astounded by their audacity. A late-night snack was not above either of them. After all, Sokka inherited his appetite from someone.

They descended to the twin doors that led to their destination, and when they were thrust open, they were met with an all but deserted place. A lone tabby cat was curled in a corner and was the only other occupant.

Aang spun in a circle and little bursts of flame shot from his fingertips. The lanterns along the walls came to life, casting them in a warm yellow glow.

As soon as there was enough light, the two of them made their way to the pantry which was quite large. There were tall ceramic jars that stored grains and spices, bottles of rice wine, sacks of flour and tea leaves, and various assortments of other ingredients.

“So,” chuckled Hakoda, sweeping an arm around their options, “What do you think we should cook?”

Aang beamed, and darted from one end to another, grabbing handfuls of this and that. Hakoda could only watch as he mixed barley flower, water, and some other leavening powder he was unacquainted with. He kneaded it all together, lighting a fire beneath a pan afterward. He was making flatbread in minutes.

“You can brew the butter tea, Chief Hakoda!” exclaimed Aang. “That’s pretty easy. You can just use the black tea, and when it’s done boiling add in the salt and some hippo cow butter. It should be salty, not sweet.”

Hakoda did as he was instructed and finished the tea while Aang cooked other things with some assistance from him. Aang sauteed garlic in another pan, throwing in soy sauce, chopped carrots, and ribbons of cabbage. Hakoda provided the spices at his discretion, and when dawn peeked through the windows, they were setting the servants’ table in the adjoining dining room.

Hakoda had pulled out a bottle of rice wine and a pair of cups. Aang placed a plate laden with steamed buns filled with whatever vegetables they could find next to the noodles and flatbread. He followed Aang’s lead, eating the flatbread with almost anything. He pretended to enjoy the butter tea, but it really was salty. It must have been an acquired taste.

“You did a great job with the butter tea,” praised Aang. “Usually we use sky bison butter, but this is close enough.”

 _Well,_ thought Hakoda, _so long as he likes it._

He moved to toast with a cup of rice wine just as a startled head chef walked in. He and the other kitchen staff only settled down once they saw who was there before them, and when they were offered food of their own.

“To the end of the war!” shouted Aang, and they all clicked their cups together.

“To the Avatar,” Hakoda added. “We’re celebrating with him today before the rest of the world gets to have him.” He said it as if the world had not already needed the Avatar. 

Aang laughed. Hakoda had not seen anyone smile quite as bright before.

-

The winter the year after the war ended was harsh. Much of it was because of the blizzard that had hit the South Pole before the solstice came, and therefore before the official start of the season. The fact that they were in the midst of the rebuilding process did not help either. Nevertheless, the frigid winds of the tundra did not stop Hakoda from conducting his business.

The Southern Water Tribe had begun to branch out past its villages and people. It was time to reestablish trade with nearby cities and islands. Even as the cold followed them from the south, Hakoda and Bato had ventured to Kyoshi Island to speak with Oyaji. They had decided it was time to reopen the fishing trade between their ports. As exciting as it all was, Hakoda was tired and just wanted to sleep.

Sunset coasted across the mountainous terrain, casting the shadows of pink and purple clouds. He and Bato were obliged to stay an extra night because the village had offered their hospitality. It would have been rude to decline especially after a historic agreement.

He treaded over to the entrance of the inn they were staying at when he heard a distinctive roar. There was cheering and girlish screams followed by a thud. He turned around to see Appa landing in the middle of the village, Kyoshi’s statue standing behind him. On his back was the Avatar, Sokka, Katara, and Suki.

“Aangy!” some girl squealed from the crowd.

Hakoda hid his laugh in his fist, and Bato snorted. Suki was greeted by a whole throng of people asking her how she was and how long she would be visiting for. There was a group of women who were already begging her to teach them what she knew. Katara and Sokka greeted him with an embrace. 

“We’re so happy to see you, dad!” smiled Katara. “We didn’t expect to see you here!”

“I didn’t expect to see you either,” he replied.

Aang only had time for a quick bow before he was dragged off by a couple of village elders. Katara frowned at the scene, and Hakoda felt a pang in his chest. He glanced at his daughter then at Aang. While the Avatar appeared overjoyed on the outside, there was a tired crinkle at the corners of his eyes that he recognized as a leader’s fatigue.

But Aang should not have to be a leader at this age. He was only fourteen.

Hakoda suddenly had an idea. “How long will you be here?” he asked his children.

“A few days,” Sokka stated. “Why?”

“Oh, I just want to spend time with all of you.”

Bato looked at him with suspicion, but Hakoda did not let that get the better of him.

That night, Hakoda slept so well that he did not remember any of it. He woke when the sun was already halfway to the apex of the sky. Apparently, he had let himself sleep in. No matter what, his plan could still be in motion if he played his Pai Sho tiles right.

He found the others all sitting in the inn’s dining area where they were finishing a late breakfast. He was not the only one that had decided that most of the morning did not need him.

Hakoda took ahold of a sweet egg bun, leaning into the cushion he sat on. Beside him was Bato and sitting on his other side was Sokka. “Say, Aang,” he started, getting the Avatar’s attention who was laughing. Katara had just told him a joke at Sokka’s expense. “Busy day today?”

Aang blinked, laying down his chopsticks. “Yeah, actually. Oyaji wants help with—”

“Great,” interrupted Hakoda. “You probably had to do a lot of the same things all over the Earth Kingdom. Take a break for today and let me take you ice dodging. It’s a rite of passage, and you deserve to experience it.”

“What?” sputtered Aang.

Bato cleared his throat. “Actually, Aang has already been ice dodging. I took him along with Katara and Sokka back when we met up during the war. He has the Mark of the Trusted.”

“Besides,” said Aang, “I don’t think I really count as Water Tribe, right?”

“Please,” scoffed Hakoda. “You’re the Avatar. You’re reincarnated from every nation.” He hummed, folding his arms. “Well, since you’ve already been ice dodging, let’s go on a hunting trip. Well, since you don’t eat meat…make that a gathering trip. How does Whaletail Island sound?”

There was a confused silence for a while before Katara spoke up. “What brought this on, dad?” she questioned. “It is a little…random.”

“Fourteen is an important age in our tribe,” explained Hakoda. “Aang is fourteen now. There are things he should experience. More importantly, Aang is part of our family.”

Katara looked surprised but sent over a soft smile to Aang afterward who was making a valiant effort to hold in his own pleased smile. “Why don’t you go, Aang? Just until the end of the day. I can talk to Oyaji for you. I’m sure water irrigation isn’t too hard to understand,” she offered.

He started to protest, but Katara cut him off with a peck on the cheek. “It will be special,” she insisted. “Trust me.”

And then, after breakfast they were off. To speed up the process, Hakoda decided it was appropriate to take Appa flying. While traditional, a ship would take too much time, and Aang was needed elsewhere. They would have to make do.

It turned out to be the right idea, because by the time they reached Whaletail Island, it had started to drizzle. It was one thing to sit on the back of an air bison in the rain, but to sail through it would have been an unnecessary challenge. Hakoda was grateful for the fact that Aang had instinctively created a shield of water above them, protecting them from getting too wet.

He looked around. The island was craggy, a mountainous expanse with few villages that were further spread out than on Kyoshi Island. There were plenty of forests and brush to scavenge through, and hundreds of wild boars to choose from to hunt if someone decided to. Hakoda had remembered the spot from a few years back. He and the other warriors had stopped over for supplies before continuing to the Earth Kingdom.

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed much,” observed Aang as he walked beside Hakoda through a woodland route. Appa had decided to stay with Momo in a nearby cave. Neither creature seemed intent on venturing out in the rain. A cool mist filtered through the leaves; frost mingled in the breeze.

Hakoda tilted his head, curious. “You’ve been here before?” he queried.

Aang nodded. “Yeah, it’s around the Southern Air Temple territory,” he said. “The monks used to take us here to pick berries.”

“Well, then we came to the right place.”

Hakoda took out his machete, motioning with it as he mimed slashing through thick vines. He demonstrated movements that the people of his tribe used when trekking through unfamiliar vegetation, pointed at tracks on the ground even as they were being washed away by the rivulets of running rain.

“Normally, this would be an ideal time to hunt,” he said. Though he was aware that Aang was not keen on killing animals, he was surprised when Aang still asked about techniques. It seemed that no matter what it was, the Avatar was interested in different cultures. “The rain hides footprints, but if you start early enough you can track an animal. The rain hides our scents and sounds we make too, so anything like a cat deer with great hearing and smell will have less chance of sensing us.”

In turn, Aang taught him about the local flora and what was edible. “See,” he started, “There’s so many puffball mushrooms here, especially after it rains. But to really know if they aren’t poisonous, you have to cut them in half. If they’re white in the inside, then you got the right one!”

They selected blackberries that grew from bushes on the sides of knolls and rocks, climbed higher than Hakoda could ever hope to without a bender with him. With every questionable step, Aang reinforced their path with earthbending.

“No wonder you earned the Mark of the Trusted,” Hakoda joked. “Your skills really come in handy.”

Aang pushed a boulder out of the way, cracking it down the middle into separate halves. He let out a breath. “I don’t know if I earned that,” he remarked. “I rubbed off the mark right away. I tried to hide a letter that said where you were from Sokka and Katara. I didn’t want them to leave with Bato. They were so mad at me after that, and I deserved it.”

Hakoda stepped behind him again, seeing his back tense as if in trepidation. He realized that this was information that he had been entrusted with, information that Aang himself was unsure about. Bato had told him that he had run into his children and the Avatar, and that Sokka had finally gotten to go ice dodging in an unconventional manner. When finally they had a moment to hear the rest of the story, another battle had begun.

He knew how Bato had reacted when he had rejoined with he and the other warriors. He had cried tears of joy. Hakoda reached out a hand, patting Aang on the back as they walked side-by-side. “I think you _did_ earn it,” he answered. “You made a mistake, but you learned from it.”

Aang grimaced. He bent down to tug at a cluster of toadstools.

“I don’t blame you for hiding the letter,” Hakoda went on, “You didn’t want to be left alone.”

By the time they had reached the summit of some lower mountain, the sky had begun to darken enough that Aang suggested they should return. Aang whistled for Appa, and Hakoda packed what they had gathered into sacks that they had brought with them. He separated the berries from the fungi, camote tops, and other wild plants.

Somehow, as he watched Appa descend upon them, Hakoda could not help but feel like he wanted to stay a littler longer. Aang sang some old Air Nomad tune, and he wondered if they both felt the same way.

-

It was two years later when Hakoda saw Aang long enough to have a substantial conversation. During the time before that, they had exchanged letters and had brief meetings together at shared world conferences. Though, Hakoda had a fond memory of when Aang had stopped by the Southern Water Tribe for a short visit so that he could pick up Katara on their way to the ever-growing Cranefish Town in the Western Earth Kingdom. Sokka insisted that it would be the next cultural hub. (“Listen, dad. That place is going to be amazing! We have this huge melting pot of people from all over the world and the land that Zuko, Aang, and the Earth King put together from old colonies has so much potential! I can see it now…a giant spectator arena where I can watch a bunch of guys chuck rocks at each other…”)

When Aang had stopped over for those few hours, largely to collect some last-minute supplies and to eat a quick lunch, he noticed that Bato was out fishing.

“Is he coming back to meet us before we leave?” he had asked. “I’d really like to see him!”

When Hakoda assured him that Bato would be back for his midday meal, Aang had been excited. Except, just before they had started to set the table, Hakoda found that all the blubbered seal jerky was gone. What was worse, it was the same jerky that Bato had stowed for them in his own home. Apparently, Sokka had gotten to it before any of them had, citing an unsatisfactory breakfast.

“You can’t just eat all of it, Sokka!” yelled an exasperated Katara. She had thrown her arms up in the air and chastised her brother like there was no tomorrow.

In the end, Hakoda and Aang were the only ones that remained level-headed enough to concoct a plan to divert Bato’s attentions. Unfortunately, their strategy turned out to be a convoluted effort to prank him. Hakoda was sure that Sokka would thank him later.

He and Aang had convinced Bato that a polar bear dog rampaged on the inside of his home and ate all the blubbered seal jerky. Aang shared what he learned from Sokka’s solving of the case of the missing seal jerky years before, and that in order to make it look convincing they needed deep tracks. Though no one was able to get too close to a polar bear dog, Hakoda knew exactly how their pawprints looked like and had sketched them out for Aang on the icy ground. It took no time at all with waterbending.

To this day, Bato swore up and down that he had survived a polar bear dog attack because he had not been home while it happened. Hakoda and Aang thought it was hilarious.

Now, Hakoda stood at the top of the steps of the Northern Water Tribe’s capitol building. Agna Qel'a was magnificent. Its streets were sprawling, but well contained in structure. There were boats that floated in and out of the canals, decorative streams at every corner. The city was the very picture of innovation, the epitome of what a waterbending tradition could produce.

He was a bit jealous that his sister tribe had the luxury to flourish in ways that the Southern Water Tribe had not, but as he took in the complicated political structures that made up the upper echelons of government, he was happy that his tribe kept their roots. Hakoda found that complexity did not necessarily mean civilization, but it meant lack of freedom in some ways. A propensity for moral ambiguity and a strict adherence to tradition. He later learned that that was the very reason his mother had left.

He started his steady walk down the stairs, careful to not slip. Ice was ice after all, even if it was used to create a structure.

He was glad that this trip has begun the first of many annual meetings between the sister tribes, a connection that both Water Tribes had thought would be forever lost. They had discussed building up a better communication system, an exchange program for students, and various other possibilities. While there were still some problems to be worked out, it was a start.

He had made his way to the balcony that overlooked a vista of gleaming healing huts when he heard someone come up from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and could not hold back his grin.

“Avatar Aang,” he snickered, “Nice to see you survived.”

Aang groaned, slumping on the rails at his side. “Barely,” he moaned. “I thought Hahn would never stop talking about getting the Southern Water Tribe to follow the marriage traditions of the north.”

Hakoda smirked, lifting an eyebrow as he glimpsed the pout on Aang’s face. “Why? Does that bother you?” he teased.

“No!” Aang scoffed, turning the shade of a tomato. “Why would it bother me? Anyway, what are you doing here, Chief Hakoda? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the celebration? And call me Aang!” He spoke fast enough that the words started to jumble together.

Hakoda laughed so hard that tears sprung to his eyes. He held his middle until he hunched over. Between breaths he said, “Okay, okay. Then for the last time enough with the Chief title and just call me Hakoda.”

“I can’t just _call_ you that—”

“I beg to differ,” he interjected. “You definitely can.”

The two of them sighed in one collective breath after that. Hakoda was grinning ear-to-ear. The feeling of joy seemed to pursue him everywhere these past few years, and there was never a time when he thought too hard about it. The days full of hardship were not too long ago, but it felt like they were. Like they were from a different person’s life, a perspective he could never understand.

He saw the kids running about, exiting the healing huts after a long day of classwork. Both girls and boys. Even here, he was reminded of his children’s influence. If it were not for Katara, perhaps there would still be more of a gender divide.

He put his weight on the bannisters, crossing his arms on top of them. “You’re doing a great job with the world,” he said after a pause. “Sixteen, and you’ve already helped to do all of this.” 

Instead of answering, Aang asked, “How did you know that I’m sixteen? There wasn’t a big announcement.”

“You told me your birthday was the first day of the fall, remember?” spoke Hakoda. “That was a few weeks ago. I’ve been keeping track.”

“Oh,” Aang breathed.

“Oh,” Hakoda echoed. He nodded to him, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smile. “I have to keep track. You’re family, after all.”

The shock in Aang’s eyes pushed him into speechlessness. He stared at Hakoda, unable to say anything of consequence. He spent the next few seconds opening and closing his mouth as a fish gasping for air would. The imagery was good for a few laughs.

“Aang,” Hakoda began, “if there is anyone out there who would have been my son if I ever had another, it would be you. Anyway, I think it’s only a matter of time before you officially become my son. Once you marry Katara, I won’t have to think you’re part of my family, you just will be.”

Of all the things Aang could have latched onto in what Hakoda had told him, of course he would pick the one thing that was the least groundbreaking. “M–Marry?” he stuttered, blinking rapidly.

Hakoda chuckled. “What? You don’t think I see what’s going on between you two? You’ve been together for a few years now. In fact, you remind me of how Kya and I were. You might not be ready now, but you will be. Just watch.”

Aang shook his head, flabbergasted. “But—but could I be ready for that? I’m the Avatar and—”

“You’re also Aang,” he said. “It’s a rite of passage, one that not everyone takes…but you deserve happiness more than most, you and Katara. You deserve to live after everything you’ve been through. You might have the Mark of the Trusted, but if there is anything more important than trust, it’s life.”

“Life?”

Hakoda smiled, watching realization come to Aang just as he said the next few words, “Like a mark of the living. Proof that you’ve changed and grown, that even through all the things you’ve endured, you still made it to adulthood as you were meant to be…yourself.”

For a few moments, they did not say anything else. Aang shifted from foot to foot, sharing in the space they had established for themselves. The sea dipped into cliffs and currents just beyond them, widening between glaciers, breaking them apart. Tiger seals squawked their presence, gulls twittered above them, gliding and free.

“You know, Hakoda,” Aang said, “You and Gyatso would have liked each other. You both have a lot of wisdom to give.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it wisdom,” he beamed, “Just a warrior’s intuition.”

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! So that was a thing.
> 
> A few notes as usual:  
> I threw in some some references to Filipino food, because I can. The noodles Aang makes is based on a vegetarian version of pancit bihon which has pretty much the same ingredients, except there's chicken. Camote tops are also called camote leaves, and is used a lot in Filipino foods (at least the ones my family makes). 
> 
> Butter tea is based on Tibetan po cha, which again has pretty much the same ingredients except of course...the butter or milk used is not sky bison milk. It's yak milk. The flatbread is based on Tibetan balep korkun. Full disclosure, I have no idea how it's supposed to be eaten and kind of treated it like naan, so if anyone knows the correct way, feel free to comment that!
> 
> Thanks for reading and please leave some kudos and/or a comment down below!


End file.
